


A Difficult Choice

by The_Highlands_Lady



Series: The Will of the Vala [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 01:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17736368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Highlands_Lady/pseuds/The_Highlands_Lady
Summary: Aisling Markey-Faolán is one of the few Lady Knights at her local renassaince fair. After one day, well, she found herself face to face with the Creator of Middle-Earth himself, Lord Eru. Upon being given a choice and a deal, she accepted, with one demand: That she keeps two of the dead from dying entirely. She finds herself in a new world, without much of a family, supplies, or even a map. Of course, any sane person would curse at the spirit that sent them here... right?





	1. Falling Through The Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Tolkien or any of the chars. All I own is Aisling.

Coughing and spluttering as she rolled back onto her feet from a well-placed swing from her opponent, Aisling glared at the laughing male, taking advantage of his distraction, and sending him stumbling backwards to land in the placed mud puddle. A grin formed across her face as she watched him come up, spluttering and cursing her in Irish.

“You were asking for it, Will.” Will glowered at his friend, slowly stepping out of the mud and stalking towards her with careful steps. “Three second to run.”

Aisling squeaked in dismay, sheathing her blade before taking off running, lifting her skirts as she dodged the people attending the renaissance faire, being chased by what looked like to be a mud-covered monster.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down there, girlie! And you too, mud monster!” The man acting as the Knight-Commander barked, rising from his seat by the tavern and approaching the two panting young adults.

“We were sparring and this idiot tripped me… so I did what I was taught, used my environment, and knocked him into the mud behind his position. Not my fault!” Aisling panted, voice rising in distinct dismay as he shook his head.

Stephen rubbed his eyebrows briefly, glancing at the approaching mud-covered form of William.

“Fine. Guardsman Hunt! Go wash off. No more sparring in mud for you today… As for you, Lady Knight, get serving us beer.”

Aisling muttered, but subsided at Stephen’s narrowed glare, moving into the tavern to relieve the other tavern lady.

Stephen sighed, moving back to join the others, easily sliding into their conversations. Laughter soon burst out of their throats as Aisling dropped off more mugs of beer and ale for their consumption, only bothering with a subtle glare towards the passing William, who was nice and clean, gaining a stuck-out tongue and swift whack to her bum by Stephen, who had caught their interactions.

“Go.”

Aisling sulked back inside, standing at the bar with a heavy sigh, bored, and waiting for the next batch of customers. Even having a bar brawl would give her the excitement she needed so badly to calm down her adrenaline levels. She really wanted to smash some heads, especially with how idiotic folks are these days.

It seemed to not take long until the faire was closing for that day. Aisling swung her weapons over her back, fastening her hand-and-a-half sword to her belt, daggers hiding in her skirts, and a very elegantly carved longbow complete with a matching quiver and arrows, moving to her campsite, only to be stopped on the way there.

“Aisling, don’t tell me you’re camping.” Will questioned quite strongly, wrapping a large hand around her upper arm, pulling her to a stop.

“Of course I am. I’m not going to drive two hours back home, then come back here two hours early. Besides, the security already knows of what I’m doing, and I’m right on their boundary check. Don’t worry, Will. I have my weapons, plus I have service within a five minute walk for me.” Aisling reassured, pulling free of the grip on her arm, and turning to head to her campsite.

“Good night.” She called over her shoulder, gaining a muttered ‘good night and good luck’ from Will as he turned to head the opposite direction.

<\- ->

However, what Aisling didn’t expect, was to trip over a fallen tree, quite from a storm earlier, and find herself tumbling through the shadows. Landing on, what appeared to be an island full of green grass and fruits and berries in harvest, Aisling scrambled to her feet, turning slowly to see her surroundings quite carefully. Sliding a hand back to secure her bow, she slowly nocked an arrow, and stopped moving, hearing a branch crack under the weight of someone’s, or maybe even something’s foot.

“Hello? Show yourself!” Her voice was raised into a commanding bark, intimating her father’s drill sergeant tone when he was at work. As she waited, she pulled her bow to full draw, arrow primed to fire at whoever was coming her way.

“Halt, my dear.” An unfamiliar voice came from the trees as the person emerged from the shadows. Aisling didn’t hesitate in aiming her bow at his neck, eyes almost focused intently.

“Your name.” Her tone was almost a growl as she focused on the appearing man.

“Some call me Iluvatar. Others call me Eru.” His baritone rumbled across the remaining distance that separated the two. Aisling’s brain worked to piece the name together before she slowly lowered her bow.

“Creator of all things alive on Arda to this day.” Her voice was breathless in shock as she slid her bow onto her back again, falling into a deep curtsy.

Eru chuckled briefly, gesturing for her to rise.

“Rise. We are equals here, my lady.” Aisling’s head shot up in shock at his words, as she slowly stood, watching as he approached her carefully.

“I have been watching you since your birth… I always knew you would be focused on Arda.”

Aisling nodded. “Yes sir. From the moment I could remember, I was read the stories. Why?”

Eru smiled at her questions before he continued. It was quite easy to see that he had taken on a form of an elf with silver hair, and wore elegantly designed armor.

“You were quite a fascinating youngling to watch as you grew.” Aisling watched as he circled around her, slowly turning to keep him in her focus.

“And?”

“Be patient, my child. I am getting there.” Eru rebuked her sternly; making her shut up long enough for him to finish.

“As I was saying, you were a fascinating youngling to watch grow. Especially as you got more involved in medieval research. When you were twelve, you read the Hobbit for the first time, and I watched you cry at the deaths of Thorin, Fili, and Kili at the end of the Battle of the Five Armies.”

Aisling smiled sheepishly at the remembrance that she was actually crying at the deaths of three fictional characters before Eru continued on.

 

“What I am trying to say is that I want to offer you a chance to go back and make things right. Two can survive. Your choice for which two, if you accept this offer.” Eru proposed to Aisling, making her brown eyes go wide.

“I’m sorry, but what? Only two can survive?” Eru nodded in certainty.

“Yes. Only two can survive. You choose which two, though.” He added quite calmly, watching as she let out a heavy breath in thought.

“Crown Prince Fili and Prince Kili. They had the most to lose.” Aisling’s answer was strong as she looked up at Eru calmly.

“Very well. They will not be touched by Mandos’ hand. But by choosing, you do agree to accept my offer?” Eru questioned the young woman standing in front of him.

“You never mentioned an offer.” Aisling retorted back at the Creator of the World.

Eru laughed deeply.

“Always keeping people honest, my dear, but you are correct. As such, here is my offer: Upon choosing two people who were marked with death before you came to be given the gift of life again, you are agreeing to be the One of the eldest kept alive, and will join them down in the world I created many years ago. Do you accept my offer? Mind you, if you do not, then the survival of two is no go anymore.”

Aisling let out a deep breath in thought as she turned to pace, thinking deeply.

“If I agree, am I remaining to live the rest of my days out with the One?” She questioned the Lord of Everything quickly. Eru nodded in response.

“You will be gifted with the same lifespan of one of their own kin. No more human aging for you anymore.” Aisling hummed briefly in thought, taking into account everything posed for her before she whirls to face Eru, face set in a stubborn expression.

“I accept.”

Eru smiled brightly at her, nodding in approval at her decision.

“One more thing. Before I send you to Arda, I want to gift you with one thing.”

Aisling blinked in surprise at the words; surprised it wasn’t the leaving words yet.

“What is it?”

Eru reached a long finger forwards to carefully touch the center of her forehead, sending a staggering wave of energy through her figure. Aisling spluttered in dismay.

“What the hell was that?” She barked, Irish accent sliding out in her bewilderment.

“You have the ability for seeing visions now… Use it wisely, my dear, for it might save your life one of these coming days.” Eru remarked calmly, turning on his heel to vanish back into the surrounding trees.

“And by the way, have a happy trip.” He tossed over his shoulder before Aisling felt the ground fall out from underneath her, sending her plummeting with a startled scream.

“ERU, TÚ MOTHERFUCKING LEATHCHEANN!” Her echoed scream was distantly heard as she landed with a hard thump on the ground, cursing the God entirely in Irish irritably as she glanced about her surroundings nearby, wondering where Eru had dropped her off at.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, disclaimer in first chapter, but this time is also added that I do not own any of the songs written into the chapter. This is also focused by the movie, so I hope you enjoy!

Aisling groaned as she slowly sat up in dismay, rubbing her back that her quiver had slammed into during her fall. She looked around, seeing nothing but dirt trails and wilderness. Pushing herself to her feet, Aisling glanced down at her outfit, seeing that it was the same one she was wearing earlier. Flowing skirts, silvery-tinted armor covering her top half, complete with boots and leggings. Almost immediately, she felt for each of her weapons, letting out a sigh of relief at the finding of all of them, before sticking her finger in her mouth and holding it up to detect the wind’s direction. The sound of faint hoofbeats sounded on the trail, and she quickly analyzed her position. She could either go towards the hoofbeats, or hide in the bushes until they passed. All of her instincts were telling her to go for the latter, but she decided to go for the former.

Beginning to walk towards the sounds, Aisling almost stopped dead in her tracks as an old grey-haired man on a horse appeared through the woodland.

‘ _Oh hell no._ ’ Her thoughts dissolved into purely Irish cursing, quite creative as well, as she gazed at the old man. ‘ _Gandalf the Grey_. _Of course, which places me either in the Hobbit or before the Fellowship starts… I have to ask him. Should I reveal myself? Not yet. I’ll act as a lost woman. Yeah, that’s the best course of action._ ’

Aisling took a few more hesitant steps out of the brush, coming to stand right in the middle of Gandalf’s path, forcing him to reign his horse in without much dignity.

“Whoa there!” Gandalf peered at the obstacle blocking his path, before he blinked in surprise.

“A woman? What is a woman doing so far from civilization?” He questioned, dismounting from Storm more nimbly than an old man should be, and approaching the woman.

Aisling managed to convince a small smile to loosen her tight expression as she curtsied to one of the Maiar.

“Pardon me for blocking your math, Master, but I seem to have lost my way.” Gandalf nodded silently, encouraging her to go on.

“And as such, I heard your horse coming, and I figured you might be my best chance to find my way back to civilization.” Aisling finished, brown eyes pleading.

Gandalf chuckled, “of course, my dear. I’d be glad to help get you back to civilization. Though it won’t be human civilization, I might add. I am on my way to The Shire to recruit a burgular. Maybe you can stay with him?”

Aisling nodded, mind beginning to piece together where in the storyline she had landed.

“That is acceptable. Thank you, Master.” Gandalf chuckled deeply again.

“It’s Gandalf to you… but may I know your name?” Aisling smiled brightly at his question, lowering herself into a deep curtsey.

“Aisling Markey-Faolán, at your service, Master Gandalf.”

“A beautiful name. Shall we?” Gandalf offered her a hand to mount Storm, only for Aisling to surprise him with a nimble mount of her own, getting settled just behind Gandalf and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Ready when you are.”

Aisling watched as the surroundings almost sped past as Gandalf encouraged Storm into a ground-covering canter, content.

“Gandalf?”

“Yes my dear?” He responded, barely looking over his shoulder to see his passenger.

“Has Erebor been reclaimed yet?” Aisling’s simple question brought a full-body jerk out of Gandalf, but he didn’t slow the horse down.

“Not yet… I was heading to the Shire to recruit a burglar.” Aisling hummed in acknowledgement as they left the woods, heading into the beautiful rolling hills of the Shire.

‘ _Looks so much like Ireland… too bad there’s no mountains around. Then it would be just like home._ ’ Aisling’s thoughts trailed back to her homeland as they rode, easily taking hills without much effort on the horse’s part.

Gandalf reigned his horse in, right in front of a large hobbit-hole with a small man sitting out front with a pipe in his mouth.

“Good morning, Master Baggins.” Gandalf greeted, dismounting and gesturing for Aisling to stay put on the horse.

“Uhhh, OH! Master Gandalf, the one who created all those amazing fireworks for the Old Took’s parties and festivals a few years ago, right? You vanished.” The small man almost snapped at the wizard.

“And now, to expect to just be showing up with a strange passenger on your horse, and without much of a ‘by your leave’! What is it you want this time, Gandalf?” The hobbit, Aisling now remembered, Bilbo Baggins, questioned, crossing his arms across his chest in a defensive position, eyes staring straight into Gandalf’s, seemingly demanding answers.

“You will have to wait for answers, Bilbo, until this evening. But until then, would you consent to taking this young woman under your roof?” Gandalf asked, gesturing to Aisling carefully.

“Oh, where are my manners? Of course! My mother would be rolling in her grave if I let a young woman wander away and possibly get killed.” Bilbo exclaimed in absolute shock, watching as the woman dismounted and approach him carefully, dropping a slight curtsey in politeness.

“Aisling Markey-Faolán, at your service, Master Baggins.” Bilbo tsked.

“None of those formalities here, Miss! Come, come, let’s get you inside. As for you, Gandalf, you will be here this evening. How many are coming?”

“Thirteen.” He tossed over his shoulder in answer as he mounted Storm again. “Expect to see company in a few hours!”

Aisling watched as Gandalf rode off, Bilbo muttering under his breath at the sudden company he had to host for.

“Alright, so looks like we have a lot to do before company comes this evening. Can you cook?” Aisling jolted out of her thoughts as Bilbo questioned her.

“Yes. I can cook and bake.” She responded to his question, gaining a bright smile.

“Good. To the market we go to gather supplies. Then, cooking awaits!” Bilbo tossed a large basket at Aisling, taking his own as well, and the two headed into the Hobbiton market, shopping for what they needed to make in order to prepare for the unexpected guests that evening.

<\- ->

Hours passed without much to mark them, only almost constant baking and cooking for both Aisling and Bilbo.

Aisling was working on a batch of honey buns at the moment while Bilbo turned a whole pig over the fireplace, watching it closely to make sure it didn’t burn. Already most flat surfaces had plates, or at least, dishes and ingredients strewn about on them. It was quite entertaining to watch Bilbo turn a pig that was almost as twice as large as he was, Aisling thought, as she kneaded the dough for the sticky honey buns.

“What are you humming, Aisling?” Bilbo questioned, keen hearing picking up the faint sound of humming from her.

“Oh, it’s a traditional Irish song. There’s no Common translation, but it’s a war song.” Aisling answered absentmindedly, drizzling honey over the bread once she had rolled and placed them on the tray, sliding them into the oven.

“Why do you ask?”

“It was just an interesting tune.” Bilbo shrugged, turning back to the pig.

“Never mind. I’ve been told I’m too curious for my own good.” He murmured, avoiding eye contact with the woman in the kitchen.

“Don’t let your curiosity be constrained, Bilbo.” Aisling remarked peacefully, turning to start work on the next batch of raspberry-blueberry muffins.

Bilbo snorted, getting a stare from Aisling, as he heaved the pig off the spit and onto a large platter.

“Do you think this’ll be enough?” He questioned, gesturing to the stacks of food and meat scattered about, taking up most flat surfaces.

“Of course. Now, shoo, go get ready for the guests.” Aisling shooed him away with a faint burst of laughter, watching as the Hobbit scurried down the halls, turning her attention back to the baking bread and muffin mixture.

<\- ->

Evening approached, and as was tradition for Bilbo, he was sitting at the table, eating some fish for dinner, and Aisling was curled in an armchair by the fire, reading a book contently. Silence had fallen, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. No, it was a comforting silence. Before either of them knew it, a harsh knock was heard from the front door.

Bilbo stood, tightening his robe slightly, before approaching the door hesitantly. Opening it, he stood in absolute shock as his eyes registered the presence of a towering bald dwarf.

Slowly the dwarf turned to face Bilbo, bowing slightly, before speaking with a voice like rocks falling, “Dwalin Fundinson, at your and your family’s service.”

“B-B-Bilbo Baggins, at yours, Master Dwalin.”

Aisling barely glanced up from her book before she heard the sound of boots thumping on the floor, attention drifting to Dwalin as she stood.

At this time, she had removed her armor, and wore a simple blue, almost the same shade of Durin’s Line, dress that was elegantly designed with silver thread scattered throughout the fabric.

“Missus Baggins.” Dwalin bowed at seeing the woman moving into the entryway.

“I’m sorry, but there must be a confusion. I’m not Bilbo’s wife, nor sister.” Aisling corrected him smoothly. “Aisling Markey-Faolán, at your service, Master Dwalin.” She introduced herself, falling into a smooth curtsy before straightening again.

“So leave your boots and cloak by the door, weapons too, and go sit in the dining room while we wait for your companions.” Aisling directed, tone demanding obedience.

Dwalin chuckled faintly at her orders, deciding to obey, and moved to sit at the dining table. Upon seeing what was laid out, his eyes went wide. It had been so long since he, and the other members of the Company, had seen this much food. Let alone, this much food visible at the moment.

Aisling glanced at Bilbo as the doorbell rang again, answering it and giving a slight curtsy to the white-haired dwarf standing in the doorway.

“Good evening, Master.”

“Balin Fundinson, at your and your family’s service, Missus Baggins.” He introduced himself with a slight bow.

“I’m not related to Bilbo.” Aisling heaved a sigh, before repeating the same instructions she had told Dwalin, sending Bilbo to handle and converse with the two arrivals as another ringing sounded.

Aisling prepared herself for whoever was next, and opened the door to see two younger dwarves standing on the front porch.

“Fíli Durinson,” the blonde spoke first, followed by the brunette.

“And Kíli Durinson!” Both spoke in unison, bowing as one.

“At your service, Mistress!”

Aisling smiled brightly at their bright introductions before repeating her directions again, watching as the two joined their older kin, and were greeted with gentle smacks to their backs in greeting.

Another strong ring was heard as she sighed deeply in irritation, putting on a smile, and turning to answer the door, nearly being flattened by the group of dwarves that came tumbling into the entryway. Aisling glanced at the loudness of the group before she crossed her arms across her chest, almost glowering at Gandalf.

“Gandalf. Of course.”

Gandalf could at least have appeared sheepish, but it wouldn’t be. He patted her shoulder before bending to help the fallen dwarves stand.

“Aisling, I would like to introduce to you to Òin and his brother, Glòin; Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur; Dori, Nori, and Ori.”

Aisling smiled, giving a curtsy to all introduced.

“Aisling Markey-Faolán at your service, Masters. Now come, dinner awaits.” She led them into the dining room, gesturing for them to take a seat, before she moved over to grab ale, depositing one mug in front of each Dwarf’s seat. “Enjoy, Masters. If you need me, or Master Bilbo, we will just be in the kitchen.” Aisling tugged Bilbo into the kitchen, forcing him to sit.

“Don’t freak, Bilbo. And be honest. They’ll respect you more.”

<\- ->

Fíli watched the retreating slight frame of their hostess, letting out a sigh of longing that got his brother’s attention and a swift elbow to his side.

“Oof!” Fíli glared at Kíli. “What the heck was that for?”

“You were ogling her bum, idiot. She’s a lady for a reason.” Fíli scoffed at his brother’s words before turning his attention back to where he could see the beautiful blonde perched on the counter, working on something.

“I think she’s my One.”

Kíli’s brown eyes went wide in surprise. “R-R-Really?” He questioned his five-year-older brother, getting a nod.

A Dwarf’s One was basically their true soulmate. And for Fíli, the Crown Prince and next-in-line for the throne of Erebor, if they were successful in reclaiming the Kingdom of Erebor, it was a pretty big deal that he found his One at such a young age.

Kíli glanced at Aisling one more time, snorting briefly.

“I can definitely see why you’d think that. But, there’s meat awaiting. Meat and ale, so let’s get eating!”

Chaos descended on the dining table as the Dwarves consumed the offered food, prepared for their entire arrivals.

Aisling stood from the kitchen, moving out to begin picking up the empty plates and platters, carrying them to the sink, and beginning to wash as a tune was coming from the other room. Shaking her head in almost fondness, Aisling recognized the tune as ‘That’s What Bilbo Baggins Hates’, chuckling as the dwarves begun to sing.

As the song subsided, a strong knock sounded on the door, making silence fall as Aisling straightened, turning her attention to the front door slowly. She watched as the other Dwarves stood, moving towards the door, and lining the entryway with Gandalf leading the procession. Aisling stood slightly behind Fíli and Kíli, watching as the rounded door was opened to reveal a dark-haired, strongly-built dwarf.

His voice was deep, Aisling realized, much deeper than he was portrayed in the movies and shows she had listened to and watched growing up, passing his cloak to Dwalin before greeting Gandalf.

“I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way twice, and I wouldn’t have found it without the aid of the mark on the door.” Thorin rumbled, staring up at Gandalf with a suspicious look in his eyes.

“A mark? Uh, there’s no mark on the door! It was just painted a week ago!” Bilbo protested, pushing through the crowd and glancing at both.

“There is a mark, Bilbo. I put it there myself this morning before I departed.” Gandalf attempted to reassure him as Thorin’s intense blue eyes fell on the curly-haired Hobbit in front of him.

“So this is our burglar? He looks more like a grocer than a burglar to me… but tell me. What weapons are you proficient in? Axe or sword?”

Bilbo straightened, voice seemingly not shaking as he answered the demanding Dwarf’s questions.

“I have some skill with conkers, if you must know.” Thorin snorted in dismay.

“As thought.”

Aisling had had enough of Thorin’s attitude towards Bilbo, and pushed her way forwards to stand in front of him. Brown eyes were hard, almost like frozen soil in the wintertime, as she leaned forwards.

“And you, _Master Oakenshield_ , are walking a VERY thin line here.” Aisling’s tone was dangerous, as she glared into the blue eyes of the Dwarf King.

“You are welcomed into the house, residence of Master Bilbo Baggins, and yet, you come in here, and act like you are so high and mighty! Well, newsflash, Master, you’re a regular peasant like the rest of us at this point. So be fucking respectful to those opening their houses to you.” Aisling almost snarled, irritated with his holier-than-thou attitude before she turned, skirts swirling around her ankles, before flopping down on the rug by the fireplace, stretching out like a content cat, and dozing off quite quickly.

Bilbo was struck into silence by Aisling’s defense, and so was the rest of the Dwarves; not bothering to see Thorin handled, he turned on his heel, heading towards the kitchen to pull out the last batch of muffins from earlier that afternoon from the oven.

<\- ->

Fíli felt some surge of pride rise in his chest at his One’s words and defense of the Hobbit, watching as she snapped at Thorin enough to get him out of his thick skull that appeared to cause a multitude of diplomatic issues throughout the years.

Following the dark-haired Dwarf to the dining table, sliding into a seat back in the corner, Fíli watched as he was delivered a bowl of stew complete with saved pork and a nearly overflowing mug of ale by the woman he had been watching throughout the evening so far.

Thorin dug into the food placed in front of him, giving a thankful grunt at Aisling, as Balin’s voice raised in question.

“What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?” Taking a swallow of his drink, Thorin nodded slowly.

“Aye, envoys from all seven kingdoms.”

Balin’s brother, the bald-headed Dwalin spoke up after his leader had answered the first question, “and what do the Dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?”

Thorin huffed in irritation, answering the second question quite irritably.

“No. They say it is our quest, and our quest alone.”

The murmurs and mutters of disappointment came from all fourteen gathered around the table as a questioning tone rose up from the kitchen doorway.

“Quest? What Quest?” Gandalf smiled at the Hobbit gently.

“Bilbo, how about giving us a bit more light?” He nodded, turning to grab candles as Aisling brightened the lights around the dining room, moving past each Dwarf without much effort.

“Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak.”

Bilbo gazed at the map set out in front of Thorin, expression tightening as he read the name of the peak.

“The Lonely Mountain.” Aisling hummed in acknowledgement, content in her corner.

“Also known as the Lost Kingdom of Erebor when Smaug took the mountain.” She contributed, ignoring the weird glances from the other dwarves at her seemingly unexpected contribution.

Gloin, the red-haired banker, spoke up then.

“Aye, Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time.” Oin elbowed his brother quite fiercely before speaking, using a hearing trumpet due to his older age.

“Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold: when the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.” Bilbo’s focused expression turned to one of almost terror as his voice shook.

“Uh, what beast?” Bofur waved a hand, almost answering in a distinct flighty tone.

“Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our Age…” Aisling interrupted here, smoothly adding, “actually, the greatest calamity of Dwarven-kin of the Third Age. But go on.”

Bofur seemingly didn’t mind that he was interrupted by the girl, continuing to describe Smaug to the almost shaking Hobbit. “Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals, etc.”

Bilbo held up a shaking hand, halting Bofur’s description. “Y-Yes, I know what a dragon is.”

One of the younger dwarves, Aisling thought was maybe Ori, stood up suddenly, shouting, “I’m not afraid! I’m up for it. I’ll give him a taste of Dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!”

“Oh sit down!” Dori pulled his younger brother down into his chair as Balin spoke again.

“The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we only number thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor the brightest.” Almost immediately as he finished his sentence, absolute havoc broke out. Dwarves were protesting left and right to Balin’s words as Oin grumbled.

“What did he say?” He was soon followed by the blonde Prince’s encouraging statement, “we may be few in number, but we’re fighters, all of us, to the last Dwarf!”

His brother, Kíli, contributed to his brother’s statement.

“And you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!”

Gandalf spluttered on his pipe at Kíli’s words, stuttering to try and correct the young Prince before Dori questioned the wizard.

“Well, how many dragons have you killed?” Gandalf continued to puff on his pipe, completely embarrassed as Aisling was giggling from her seat in the corner at his red-tinted face.

The chaos continued to grow until Thorin stood up, bellowing for silence.

“ _Shazara!_ If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? _Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!_ ”

Cheers rose from the dwarves at their leader’s inspiring speech as Aisling watched, giggles subsiding into silence by now. She straightened her posture slightly, watching everything unfold quite as the book seemed to tell, as her brown eyes turned to Gandalf, knowing what was coming.

Balin was always the sense-restorer, pointing out a disappointing fact.

“You forget that the front door is sealed. There is no way into the Mountain.” A twinkle appeared in Gandalf’s eye as he spoke.

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.” Aisling craned her neck to see Gandalf withdrawing an elegantly wrought iron key from the depths of his robes, handing it to Thorin.

“How you come by this?” Thorin demanded of the Maiar, expression suspicious.

“It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now, take care of it.” Gandalf released the key into the care of Thorin, as the rest of the Dwarves watched with almost elated expressions.

Fíli spoke up again. “If there’s a key, there must be a door then!”

Aisling snorted. “No shit, Sherlock.” Her voice was quiet, not attracting a lot of attention yet from the Dwarves settled around the table as Gandalf pointed to the set of inked red runes on the map.

“These runes speak of another hidden entrance into the lower halls.”

“There’s another way in!” Kíli’s exclamation was quiet in his surprise, allowing Gandalf to continue speaking.

“Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.”

Ori’s small voice was heard from the opposite end of the table.

“That’s why we need a burglar!”

Bilbo hummed, glancing over the map carefully, before speaking, “and a good one, I’d assume. An expert, I’d imagine.”

Gloin’s eyes flicked to the Hobbit as he questioned, “and are you?”

Bilbo’s head shot up at the direct question. “Am I what? An expert?”

Oin, who completely misunderstood the questions due to his deafness, let out a cheer. “He said he’s an expert, laddies!”

Bilbo stuttered, trying to backstep, explain that he had never stolen anything in his life, before Balin stepped in.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Master Baggins. He’s hardly burglar material.” Dwalin threw in his thoughts at the end of his brother’s sentence.

“Aye, the wilds are no place for gentlefolk, or even womenfolk, who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” Aisling knew she was being referred to, and she stood, emerging from the shadowy corner to stand in the candlelight.

“Believe me, Master Dwalin, but I do know how to fend and fight for myself. I am not some… pitiful woman who sits back and lets a man fight for her honor. I will fight for my own honor, and I will always win. You do not expect me to be able to do so. But I can, and I will. You do not need to worry about me.” Aisling leaned forwards, dress moving with every movement of her body as she leaned across Fíli and Ori’s shoulders.

“Most women say that… but can you prove it? And how do you even fight in dresses?” Gloin questioned her strongly, gaining a slight movement as she lifted her leg to rest on the table, pulling her skirts up to show the sheath around her ankle and thigh, holding two separate blades.

“And for my dress? It is designed for battle.” Aisling explained, pulling apart her skirts to show several more daggers hanging and scattered through the fabric. “I even have one in my corset, but I can also wield a hand-half sword, longbow, and use these daggers to quite deadly effect. So you do not need to worry about me.” Aisling reassured the Dwarves calmly, straightening her posture yet again before taking a small, folded stack of armor brought by Bilbo, unfolding it swiftly and sliding it over her head. The metal clinged as it hit, falling to cover her corset, and ending as her skirts started.

Dwalin, even though he was the Captain of the Guards, hadn’t seen a woman dressed like that before. Standing tall, and quite stunning, he would admit, Dwalin glanced at the blue skirts that hid six daggers and various pouches throughout them, before turning his gaze upwards to see the new metal top part. She, he assumed her name was Aisling, looked like a warrior woman. Silver metal, done in a mix of light chainmail and plate armor, covered her top half, ending right as her skirts started.

Aisling gave a slightly sarcastic curtsey to the Company before taking her leave quickly, vanishing into the depths of the Hobbit hole, making Bilbo break out into laughter at her departure.

“You definitely did it then.” He remarked, as Thorin blinked in confusion, watching the departing girl.

“What is her name?”

“Aisling Markey-Faolán.” Gandalf answered calmly as the faint sound of humming could be heard from the living room, the woman’s voice rising in a traditional Irish song.

“Sha ta co ti oh scum ne rivna  
Sha ta co ti oh nugga tir na nog  
Sha ta co ti oh scum ne rivna  
Nug a tir na nog.

Come my love our world's may part,  
The gods will guide us across the dark.  
Come with me and be mine my love,  
Stay and break my heart.

From the shores through the ancient mist,  
You bear the mark of my elven kiss.  
Clear the way, I will take you home  
To eternal bliss.

Sha ta co ti oh scum ne rivna  
Sha ta co ti oh nugga tir na nog  
Sha ta co ti oh scum ne rivna  
Nug a tir na nog.  
Sha ta co ti oh scum ne rivna  
Sha ta co ti oh nugga tir na nog  
Sha ta co ti oh scum ne rivna  
Nug a tir na nog.

Tir na nog, oh, come beyond the ancient fog,  
Tir na nog, oh, come with me to tir na nog.

Far away from the land you knew,  
The dawn of day reaches out to you.  
Though it feels like a fairy tale,  
All of this is true.

Run with me, have a look around.  
We build our life of a sacred ground.  
Come my love, our world's may part,  
We'll be safe and sound.

Sha ta co ti oh scum ne rivna  
Sha ta co ti oh nugga tir na nog  
Sha ta co ti oh scum ne rivna  
Nug a tir na nog.  
Tir na nog, oh, come beyond the ancient fog,  
Tir na nog, oh, come with me to tir na nog.

Time won't follow the path we came.  
The world you left, it forgot your name.  
Stay with me and be mine my love,  
Spare my heart the pain.

Sha ta co ti oh scum ne rivna  
Sha ta co ti oh nugga tir na nog  
Sha ta co ti oh scum ne rivna  
Nug a tir na nog.  
Sha ta co ti oh scum ne rivna  
Sha ta co ti oh nugga tir na nog  
Sha ta co ti oh scum ne rivna  
Nug a tir na nog.  
Tir na nog, oh, come beyond the ancient fog,  
Tir na nog, oh, come with me to tir na nog.  
Come with me to tir na nog.”

The Dwarves fell silence, listening to the elegantly sung tune, remembering the hardships they had faced and the song was bringing back. As each one moved out to the main room, watching narrowly as the woman finished, turning to gather blankets, and beginning to set up beds for each, or as many as they could find as the Dwarves started their own song…

Aisling wiped away a stray tear as she heard their voices, hearing their hardships and grief portrayed completely through the music being played at the moment, and swearing to help them achieve their goal through anything possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> *Shazah - Silence  
> *Du Bekâr - To Arms
> 
> And as always, please feel free to leave kudos or comment! I always appreciate your thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> *None


End file.
